Foreign Accent Syndromes by Miller Nick Ryalls Jack

Author:Miller, Nick, Ryalls, Jack
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781317974055
Publisher: Taylor and Francis

December 1999

A ‘stroke of luck’

Headache, but brain fully working.

Voice disappearing.

Three words, two words, one word and gone!

Right leg trailing.

Colleagues, friends and family taking over.

Doctors discussing me,

Don’t they know I am here?

Look at me, look into my eyes and far beyond. Return to me my dignity.

Respect me.

I am still here, still thinking, still fully aware.

Don’t you realise, of course, I know I’ve had a stroke?

My body is letting me down, but, don’t let it persuade you that my brain is malfunctioning also.

Stay in hospital? No!

Please take me home to where I belong.

The boys worried. My friend sobbing.

Mum, your eyes say it all, but, look at your daughter’s eyes,

I’m still here!

The daughter,

The mother,

The teacher and the friend.

I love you all as you love me, please, please don’t be sad.

I write jokes to try and ease your pain away.

I concentrate so hard that my head hurts, but,

I carry on, I won’t let this beat me.

I have no choice, but, simply to recover completely to be,

The daughter,

The mother,

The teacher and the friend to love you all too.

One word, two words, three words, four words, five words.

Brain and body reuniting in scrambled egg fashion.

My head aches, but, it’s not going to beat me.

Six words, seven words, eight words, nine words, ten words.

Liquid egg becoming jelly-like and solidifying.

Eight hours later, and I return, brain and body in harmony.

Fifteen days in hospital.

The boys alone at home.

My dear friend’s young son’s tragic death.

Now the perspective is suddenly clear.

Must get home, put C.T. and M.R.I. scans,

Heparin intravenous drips, all behind me now.

Family, friends, flowers and cards continually arriving.

Under the crisp, white sheets, I sob alone.

Sobs of happiness to have been so very lucky to experience, return, and yet, to be so relatively undamaged.

Under the crisp, white sheets, I sob alone.

Sobs of despair and terrible sadness, as I share the pain of my dear friend’s sad loss.

I send flowers and letters, but I so desperately want to hug her tightly, and, take her pain away.

I become used to daily episodes of no movement and no speech.

But, I lay and think how lucky I am, as nothing can match my friend’s suffering at this time.

Then suddenly discharged.

Suitably heparin, warfarin and aspirin loaded.

Goodbye, but not farewell, to a dear companion who encouraged me to regain my confidence, and shared laughter.

As I danced, in an ungainly fashion, with my intravenous drip for nine days.

No surgery, no stitches, no pain, just simply home again to be,

The daughter,

The mother,

The teacher and the friend.

As a daughter, I must learn to do as the doctors direct, to lessen my mother’s worry.

As a mother, I must be so proud of my young boys, now simply transformed into young men, who can manage my cash card without becoming overdrawn!

Who can cook, clean, feed the rabbit and the cats and still find the time to visit me as well.

As a teacher, I must learn to be patient so I can recover slowly and fully, to teach my very special children once again.

As a friend, to realise the depths of my friendships and to return the love so freely given.

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